


where the cherry blossoms fall ❀ hjs 。

by orchidsoftie



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 06:09:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21011021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidsoftie/pseuds/orchidsoftie
Summary: if all you had was a fleeting moment, what would you do with it?





	1. ❀ prelude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a letter to yu iseul for her 19th birthday. written on a postcard all the way from seoul.

_there is a town where the most beautiful cherry blossoms fall in the spring._

_it is only for a sliver of time, _ _where the petals flutter like pale pink snowflakes, the spirits in heaven giving a precious gift._

❀

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!
> 
> i'm extremely glad that you've taken the time to open and read this. 
> 
> //btw, yes i recolored the postcard, added the stamp, and i typed the actual korean translations (i used naver program online) of the letter onto the message side and did all the cool photo-magic things to make it look real. the home address is Real too.
> 
> so uh Please read the postcard !! it's part of the story!!! it took me 4 hours (honestly!!! i worked from 4 to 8 pm)!!!
> 
> i tried to make everything as accurate as possible, but there are some things that are not accurate. for example, jinhae is not actually a very small town, but in this book, it is. other than that it's pretty accurate though! i did a LOT too much research! way too much!
> 
> please give me lots of comments and support! also if i mess anything up, PLEASE tell me! i would be happy to fix it if it's in my capabilities.


	2. 일 1 ❀ postcard-perfect dreamland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yu iseul breezes through her mundane day-to-day life, when a awkward boy with a brown leather bag steps in for his first shift at the café.

_[late summer.]_

everyone knows that the air feels different in the countryside.

there is no fine dust, no car exhaust that stays sunken in the bottom of your lungs. when you breathe in, you taste the salt of the sea. you smell the blooming camelias, the broad-leaved camphor trees.

the streets are clean. oak branches tower over the roads. the sun's rays filter through the branches and leave bright white and yellow trails, colors like stained glass. there's a constant breeze that fills the quiet. you hear the music of rustling trees, warbling larks, the distant crash of waves at the sea dock.

as a baby, iseul's grandmother used to lift her up by the waist and hold her high into the sky. 

_"breathe, child," she would say. "let your home fill your lungs. who would want to live anywhere else?"_

to the south, the blue coast of jinhae-gu expanded off into the horizon. you could see the dock, where little white boats lined up in tandem, leaving foaming trails along the water. to the north, the towering green hills and snow capped mountains faded into the clouds. if you looked hard enough, you could see the railroad track trace the coastline through the town.

she took a deep breath in, just as she was told. she felt it fill her chest, her stomach. she felt it touch every part of her body, from the tip of her head to her toes. the wind blew and blew. her hair rustled behind her. she felt like she was flying.

iseul liked to be alone. people were unpredictable, anyways. she appreciated some monotony, some reassurance in being on her own. it felt stable. it felt comfortable.

"i'll see you tomorrow," she called from the back door before leaving the cafe. her shift was over at 16:00, when the afternoon air felt slightly wet and the sun was warm. she grabbed her bike from the rack and threw her sweater into the basket, anxious to go home. iseul followed the maze of paths she knew by heart. she opened the tattered wooden gate and rested her bike on a wall. past the yard with the empty hen cage, past the dried fruits and meats hanging from the roof on white string, past the porch swing, long deserted. removing her shoes, iseul slid the panel door shut and headed straight to the kitchen. "iseul-ah?" a meek, wavering voice came from the center room.

"yes, i'm here," iseul replied, "are you hungry? i can make you something."

"no...grandma's not hungry, child."

iseul sighed. her grandmother ate barely two meals a day now.

illness plagued iseul - no pun intended. it followed her like a ghost; everywhere she went, everything she did, she tried to get away from it. she immersed herself in wellness, in herbal remedies, in bubbling pots of ginseng tea and frozen preserves buried in jars in the snow. but still it lingered.

crime comes far and few between in jinhae. bugs can be hit with a roll of newspaper. spirits don't bother you if you pay them respect. but illness... illness is an, unpredictable, all-powerful entity that no one can escape from. it is worth fearing.

_crack!_

iseul pulled weeds from the ground and the green stalks snapped as their roots left the soil. the humid summer months allowed for stiff, leafy weeds to sprout in the garden, and needed to be pulled out before they flowered. sweat dripped from iseul's forehead as she tore them out.

"nuna!" a small voice called from behind the gate. iseul looked behind her and saw a tuft of black hair and a schoolboy uniform peek out from between the wooden planks. "hi jeongin," iseul smiled, walking over to where he stood. "what are you doing?" he smiled, exposing his white braces. "pulling weeds," iseul replied. "is it tiring?" "yeah. you're welcome to help, by the way." "no thanks," the boy bounced up and down on his heels, restless. "i have to go help my mom with deliveries."

his mother ran a bakery, where tourists that came to jinhae could buy breakfast and postcards to send. apparently she was quite close to iseul's mother. well, at least before she died. iseul helped babysit jeongin often too, and his mom would let them play in her shop when iseul's grandmother was busy.

"here, take some tomatoes to your mom," iseul grabbed a plastic bag and in it placed several tomatoes, sliding the bag through a gap below the fence. "really?" "sure. i won't need it. my grandma doesn't really eat that much anymore." "that's a shame." jeongin fished through his lunch bag and sent a small box of chocolate milk back through the gap. "i got this from school." "thanks," iseul nodded, and placed the box in her pocket.

when iseul used to be grade school, she often traded little things like these with her friends and classmates. a peach here, a pencil there. everyone shared with everyone; a perk of living in such a small town.

jeongin left soon after. iseul pulled out the rest of the weeds and set everything in the garden back into place. when she went back into the house, her grandmother hadn't moved. she sat staring at the old television, playing old-people drama programs about wealth and romance and big cities.

and iseul couldn't help but feel like she got something taken away from her.

iseul woke up early in the morning. she heated rice in the rice cooker and left a pot of oxtail soup on the stove. she woke her grandmother softly and whispered that there was breakfast in the kitchen, that she was going out for work. iseul took her bike and rode to the cafe, while the town was still quiet.

_"ah, city-dwellers are so lazy," her grandmother said often, as they woke early to visit the market before the sun rose. "they don't like to wake before the sun. they will never experience this cold air, the dim sky, the port empty. it's special, isn't it?" iseul would nod, and look out over the town, illuminated by only the occasional streetlight._

"hello mr. kim, i'm here," iseul bowed to the cafe manager after placing her coat on the stand by the door. the cafe owner was a middle-aged man with wire-rimmed glasses, quiet but with a friendly disposition. he was always calm, always polite. "good morning, iseul," he replied, wiping his hands on a towel beside the sink. "the new employee will arrive soon for training. please set up the mugs before opening." his words were brief, almost curt, before he disappeared into the back. "yes, sir." iseul worked quietly, alone, the sounds of her breath accompanied by only the occasional clank of glasses on the espresso machine. she stopped to play one of the old jazz albums mr. kim kept in his shelf on the record player, then resumed her silent work.

"h-hello?" the bell jingled as the door opened, revealing a young boy with red-brown hair. "oh, hello. welcome," iseul replied, watching as he tentatively walked inside, struggling awkwardly with the heavy wooden door. he wore a white button up that was just slightly too big, and his hair stood stiff up on his head messily. iseul noticed a messenger bag made of brown leather slung heavily on his shoulders, which seemed like it was made for an elderly man.

"i'm... i'm here for my first day," he bowed deeply, then stood stiff near the entrance to the cafe. "oh, okay. here, you can come in through this door," iseul pointed to the swinging panel behind the counter. "i'll get the owner." iseul heard the murmurs of their speaking in the back kitchen. she looked up as mr. kim led him out to the front counter, and the boy bowed to iseul again. _he seems polite,_ she thought to herself.

the boy roughly matched her height. he was quite gaunt, especially when wearing the baggy white button-up, and held this young, puppy-eyed look. iseul had to admit, his face was quite unique. his skin was tan, his double eyelids made his gaze sharp and intense, but there was something inherently soft and graceful about him. he had long lashes and a kitten-like button nose placed over his delicate cupid's bow. ginger-brown freckles were scattered over his nose and cheeks like stars. 

"i'm lee yongbok," he introduced himself. "please treat me well."

❀ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOW WAS IT PLEASE TELL ME I CANT BELIEVE IM FINALLY UPLOADING THIS AHHHH THIS TOOK EONS


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